Philter
by Adenil
Summary: Wilson hated paper work more than anything in the world. Wilson/House content, mention of drugs, cheap coffee.


Author's loverly notes: Jell-O! (Read: hello) It is now exactly 2:20 in the morning and I have just written a one shot. It contains man lurve and House/Wilson. You have been warned!

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Wilson hated paper work more than anything in the world. More than untreatable cancers, more than being forced by society to wear a tie to work everyday, he even hated paperwork more than those tiny stones that always seem to creep into ones shoes when one walks. Oh, how he hated paper work.

But fortunately for Doctor James E. Wilson, he was also a marvelous liar, and was able to convince people that he didn't hate paper work. _Paper work? Worry not, Madame Cuddy, it will be filled out and on your desk by morning. You want me to do House's too? Fine. I love paper work so very much. Why don't I do the whole hospitals? Splendid!_

But he still hated it.

There were few people he had allowed this knowledge to leak to. Three of those people had been his ex-wives, but only because the first two had given such marvelous back rubs when confronted with this knowledge. The third had simply told him to grow up. Hindsight being twenty-twenty, he should have known things wouldn't work out with her…

But the fourth person who knew of Wilson's hate of all things printed and filed was none other than the hospitals most illustrious, well known, and, if one were to ask, handsome doctor… House.

Speak of the devil…

House burst through the door that separated Wilson's office from the rest of the world at large, preformed a strange almost ballet-like move, and set a brown coffee cup on Wilson's desk. Right on top of the hated dead trees.

"House…" Wilson sighed and picked up the cup. "What is this?" He scoffed in disdain at the brown circular stain the cup left on the paper. It was a good thing that the forms came in bunches of six, so that when filled out in triplicate the chances of losing them all was greatly reduced. People would still always seem to lose five of the six…

"Coffee a la coffee machine." House sat down across from Wilson with his own cup, taking a small sip in such an exaggerated fashion that Wilson knew he was not really drinking at all.

"What's in it?" Wilson held the cup to his nose, breathing deeply the heady aroma of hot watered down coffee bean and powdered cream substitute.

"Liquid." House answered, lifting his cup in a small salute.

"The truth, House," Wilson demanded, refusing to take a swig of the drink until he knew what illicit drug was in it.

"And nothing but." House smiled in an unnatural way. "Go ahead."

Wilson sighed. "House…" He said in warning. He had perfected this tone over the years, the tone that told House that he had exactly four seconds to come up with the answer or he was going to get a cane in a very uncomfortable place.

House being House, he waited five seconds before responding. "Okay, fine. It's only a philter."

"A filter?" Wilson took the top off of the drink and swooshed the liquid around a bit, looking for anything suspicious.

"No, a _philter._ Geez, Wilson, don't you know anything?" House rolled his eyes and once again mimed taking a drink of his coffee.

"It isn't another drug, is it?" Wilson sniffed the coffee again, wondering briefly at the names kids these days came up with for illicit materials. Philter wasn't exactly a 'cool' name, dude.

"Don't you trust me?" House tilted his head to gaze at Wilson through his fluttering eyelashes. "You had better drink that and get back to your paper work."

Wilson glared at his desk where papers lay strewn like a scene from some great battle. How he despised paper work. "Maybe we should trade drinks." Wilson suggested, struggling valiantly for some conversation that didn't remind him of his hidden hate.

"But I've already drunk from it!" House protested, leaning towards Wilson with scared eyes. "What if I have meningococcus meningitis?"

Wilson huffed out a breath. "But maybe that's what you want me to think. You know that I wouldn't trust you enough to drink a coffee you bring me, so you know I would take the other one. The one you had. So you would pretend to drink from it to dissuade me from taking it. But you are only pretending, so that means you must be holding the cup with the drug!" Wilson, happy in his diagnosis, tipped his own coffee back and drained its contents in one swell go.

There was a beat.

No, literally, there was a beat. House beat his cane once on the floor, grinning like an escaped convict.

"Oh my," Wilson frowned. "I've just made a terrible mistake, haven't I?"

"Oh no, my dear. You've just made a horrifically wonderful error." House stood, walking around Wilson's desk with practiced patience. "I wonder how long it will take to start in on messing with you. A few minutes? A few hours?"

"House…" Wilson seemed to be saying that a lot lately. "What the hell did you give me?" He stood his face already red with anger. Or was it red with something else?

"I already told you, a philter." House took two more steps, coming to a stop mere inches from Wilson.

Wilson was beginning to pant. Whether from anger, worry, or the effect of the drug he could not possibly begin to guess. "Please," He squeaked, hating the sound of his own voice. "Who knows what it could do?"

"I know." House moved even closer, invading Wilson's personal space with a nonchalance that had Wilson twitching with envy.

His heart began to pound in his ears. He reached up and loosened his tie. Why was it so hot? "What is a philter, and I want the dictionary definition."

House smirked. Wilson's heart fluttered. House pulled from his coat a pocket dictionary. "Good thing I came prepared." He opened the book to a dog eared page and scanned quickly, his eyes coming to rest somewhere near the center of the page.

Wilson unconsciously leaned in, his heart pounding as the distance between them continued to decrease.

"Philter, noun, a potion or charm supposed to cause the person taking it to fall in love."

Wilson gasped, jerking away from House. "That's crazy!" He placed a hand on his chest, wondering why his heart had clenched at the mention of House's last word.

"But…" House closed in, returning the distance to them to a mere hairs breath. "It does appear to be working."

Something snapped inside of Wilson. He surged forward, wrapping his arms around House and pulling the man into a kiss so fierce it took his own breath away. His heart clenched again, and this time he knew exactly why.

It was House who pulled back first, eyes wide, trying to see if he knew where his breath was, let alone if he could catch it or not. Somewhere in the kiss they had gotten wrapped around each other.

Wilson slid even closer, if that was possible.

"A-actually," House stuttered, an astonishing feat for him. "It really was just coffee."

Wilson smiled the same smiled a t-rex has before his next meal. "I know. I do know what a philter is, House."

"Oh, good." House kissed him again, a chaste thing that could barely be called a peck on the lips. "Didn't want to take advantage while you were without your inhibitions."

"How about when I do have them?" Wilson quirked his eyebrow, knowing the answer.

"Let's see…"

They went back to each other in a hailstorm of kisses. Wilson enjoyed them, and forgot all about the dreaded paperwork in favor of something much better than a back rub from wife one or two.

Much, much better indeed.


End file.
